Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Dally’s POV
I wasn’t looking for a fresh start.
That kinda thing usually meant you were running from the cops, from a fight, from yourself. And I wasn’t the running type. Never had been.
But I was bored.
And boredom was dangerous.
Buck’s place smelled like stale beer, cheap smoke, and bad decisions. Same as always. I kicked the leg of a chair out of my way and dropped down onto the couch like I owned it, boots thudding against the table.
Buck didn’t even look up at first. Just kept counting whatever cash he had spread out in front of him.
“You ever gonna stop treatin’ my place like a hotel?” Buck muttered.
“When you start chargin’ rent,” I shot back.
That got a smirk outta him. Not much, but enough.
I leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling.
“You still got that storefront?” I asked.
That made him pause.
“What storefront?” Buck fibbed.
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t play dumb,” I said. “The one off the side street. Near downtown. You said you picked it up cheap but never did nothin’ with it.”
Buck finally looked at me, squinting a little like he was trying to figure out where I was goin’ with this.
“Yeah,” Buck said slowly. “So?”
I sat up, elbows on my knees, grinning just enough to mean trouble.
“Let me use it,” I said.
Buck barked a laugh.
“For what?” Buck asked, amused. “Another one of your brilliant ideas? Last time you had a ‘plan,’ I had to bail you outta…”
“This one’s different,” I retorted defensively.
That shut him up for a second.
Buck leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“Alright, genius,” Buck said. “What is it?”
I hesitated, just for a split second, then said it.
“A tattoo parlor,” I said.
Silence.
Then Buck laughed again, louder this time.
“You?” Buck spluttered. “Run a business?”
“Why not?” I snapped. “I know people. People like that kinda thing. Ink, marks…means somethin’. Ain’t just for sailors anymore.”
Buck shook his head, still amused.
“Yeah, and you think folks are just gonna line up and trust you with a needle?” Buck scoffed.
I shrugged, trying not to let it get under my skin.
“I ain’t sayin’ I’ll do the tattoos,” I said.
“Then who will?” Buck asked.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said dismissively.
That was always my answer.
Buck studied me for a long moment. His expression shifted…less joking now, more serious.
“You’re actually thinkin’ about this,” Buck said in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I said.
Another pause.
Then he sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“Alright,” Buck said reluctantly. “You can use the place.”
I grinned, already standing up.
“Knew you’d see it my way,” I said.
“I ain’t finished,” Buck snapped, pointing a finger at me. “You do this, you do it legal.”
That word hit like a punch.
“Legal?” I repeated, like it tasted bad.
“Yeah,” Buck said. “Licenses. Paperwork. All that crap.” Buck leaned forward. “I ain’t havin’ the cops sniffin’ around because you decided to run some underground operation outta my property.”
I scoffed.
“That’s half the fun,” I said.
“I’m serious, Dal,” Buck said.
I met his eyes and saw he meant it.
For a second, I considered arguing. Pushing. That was my usual move.
But something about this felt… different.
Like maybe…just maybe…I didn’t wanna screw it up before it even started.
“…Fine,” I muttered dejectedly. “Legal.”
Buck raised a brow.
“You even know how to do that?” Buck asked.
I hesitated.
“…No,” I said.
“Thought so,” Buck grumbled.
I waved him off, already heading for the door.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said.
“Yeah?” Buck called after me. “How?”
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t have one.
…
The Curtis house was quiet.
Too quiet.
That should’ve tipped me off that something was off, but I stepped inside anyway, letting the screen door slam behind me.
“Hello?” I called, more outta habit than anything.
No answer.
Good.
Less witnesses.
I walked into the living room and found Ponyboy sprawled out on the couch, a book in one hand and a notebook balanced on his knee. Pencil moving, not even looking half the time.
Kid didn’t even notice me at first.
Figures.
I leaned against the wall, watching him for a second.
“You ever come up for air?” I asked.
Pony jumped, nearly dropping both the book and the notebook.
“Jeez, Dally…don’t do that!” Pony grumbled at me.
I smirked.
“You’re jumpy,” I teased.
Pony scowled at me.
“You’re quiet,” Pony shot back, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged, pushing off the wall.
“Needed to talk to you,” I said.
That got his attention.
“Me?” Pony asked in confusion.
“Yeah, you,” I said.
Who else, dipshit?
He frowned a little, like he was already trying to figure out what kinda trouble I was about to drag him into.
Smart kid.
I glanced around the empty house again, just to be sure. No Darry. No Soda. No Steve stompin’ through. No Two-Bit runnin’ his mouth. No Johnny hoverin’ quiet in the corner.
Good.
Didn’t need an audience.
Didn’t need Darry givin’ me that look…like he already knew this was a bad idea. Didn’t need Soda tryin’ to laugh it off. Didn’t need Steve actually laughin’. And I sure as hell didn’t need Johnny gettin’ his hopes up over somethin’ that might not even happen.
Not yet.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“Darry, Soda, and Steve are at work,” Pony said. “Johnny went out with Two-Bit.”
I nodded once. Perfect.
I pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, leaning forward, forearms on my knees.
“I need your help,” I said.
That surprised him.
“You… need my help?” Pony asked in shock.
“Yeah,” I said with an eyeroll. “Don’t make a big deal outta it.”
“I’m not,” Pony said quickly, even though he definitely was. “What for?”
I hesitated…not because I didn’t know what to say, but because saying it out loud made it real.
Then I just went for it.
“I’m startin’ a business,” I said.
Pony blinked.
“A… business?” Pony asked in surprise.
“Yeah," I said with a shrug.
“What kind?” Pony asked with curiosity.
“A tattoo parlor,” I said.
Pony didn’t laugh.
Didn’t even look like he wanted to.
Just… thought about it.
“That’s actually kinda cool,” Pony said.
I leaned back a little, surprised.
“Yeah?” I said with slight hope.
“Yeah,” Pony said again, more sure this time. “It fits you.”
I huffed.
“Yeah, well,” I said. “Don’t go tellin’ the others yet.”
“Why not?” Pony asked in confusion.
I shrugged, looking away.
“Darry’ll shoot it down before I even get started,” I said. “Soda and Steve’ll think it’s a joke. Two-Bit’ll never let it go.”
“And Johnny?” Pony asked.
I paused.
“…Don’t wanna get his hopes up,” I muttered. “Not ‘til I know it’s real.”
Pony nodded slowly, like he understood more than I wanted him to.
“So what do you need help with?” Pony asked.
I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair.
“Buck says I gotta do it legal,” I said with annoyance.
“That makes sense,” Pony said.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how to do that,” I said.
I hated to admit it. Pony and Johnny were probably the only ones I would ever admit it to.
Pony almost smiled.
“So you came to me,” Pony teased.
“Don’t sound so proud about it,” I teased.
“I’m not,” Pony said…but he kinda was.
I pointed at him.
“You’re good with books,” I said. “Research. All that stuff.”
“I guess…,” Pony said, blushing in embarrassment.
“Then help me figure it out,” I said. “Licenses, permits…whatever junk they want.”
He nodded after a second.
“Okay,” Pony said.
I could tell his gears were already spinning.
“Yeah?” I said in surprise.
“Yeah,” Pony said. “We can go to the library.”
I made a face.
“The library?” I said in disgust.
“You said you wanted to do it right,” Pony said with a smirk.
I sighed.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said with an eyeroll. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The library felt like a trap.
Too quiet. Too clean. Like I didn’t belong there…and everybody knew it.
Pony didn’t seem to notice.
He moved through the shelves like he’d been there a thousand times, pulling books, flipping pages, stacking ‘em up like it was nothin’.
I leaned against a table, arms crossed, watching him.
“You actually enjoy this?” I muttered.
Pony shrugged.
“Kinda,” Pony said.
Weird kid.
After a while, he started explaining stuff…business licenses, health inspections, sanitation rules. Half of it sounded like a headache waiting to happen.
“...and you’ll probably need to register a name,” Pony was saying, flipping through a page.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “We’ll figure it out.”
That’s when I noticed it.
His notebook.
Sittin’ half open on the table.
I reached over and pulled it closer before he could stop me.
“Hey…” Pony started.
“Hold on,” I said as I held it out of Pony’s reach.
Pony finally gave up trying to grab it where I held it over his head.
I flipped through the pages.
Not just doodles.
Actual designs.
Sharp lines. Symbols. Faces. Things that looked like they meant somethin’.
I frowned slightly, studying one of ‘em.
“You do these?” I asked.
Pony shifted, suddenly looking unsure.
“Just… stuff I draw,” Pony said, clearly uncomfortable.
I tended to make him uncomfortable. Sometimes I found it funny. Sometimes it stung, though. But I would never admit that.
“Stuff you draw,” I repeated.
I flipped another page.
And another.
These weren’t just “stuff.”
These were good.
Better than anything I’d seen walkin’ around on half the guys in Tulsa.
Slowly, a grin spread across my face.
“I ain’t doin’ the tattoos,” I said. “But I need designs.”
Pony blinked.
“What?” Pony asked in confusion.
I tapped the notebook.
“These,” I said. “This is what people want.”
“I don’t know, Dally…,” Pony said nervously.
Pony started picking at his fingernail bed.
I knew he was worried about what Darry would say.
Darry and his stupid rules.
I pushed that thought aside, though.
That was a later problem.
“Yeah, you do,” I said with a smirk.
“I’ve never done tattoo designs before,” Pony waffled.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said dismissively.
Pony hesitated, glancing down at the pages.
I leaned back, folding my arms.
“You said you wanted to help, right?” I said..
“…Yeah,” Pony said nervously.
“Then this is how,” I pressed.
Pony stayed quiet for a long second.
Then, slowly…
“…Okay,” Pony said reluctantly.
That grin came back.
There it was.
Not just some half-baked idea anymore.
Something real.
A place where people like us could leave a mark.
A place that didn’t laugh you out the door.
Ink.
Stories.
Something permanent.
And for once…
I wasn’t thinkin’ about runnin’.